


You See Reality; I See The Sunset

by Kawaiibooker



Category: Tekken
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Kiss, Gen, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Set during Tekken 7, but not in the Beat 'Em Up kinda way, in which Lars suffers A Lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiibooker/pseuds/Kawaiibooker
Summary: "It's one thing to know Alisa's on her way to being fixed – and another to see her up and running, fighting by his side like nothing happened. As if he hadn't spent a full year sitting by her bedside, staring at her motionless face to somehow will her back into consciousness, suppressing the need to reach out and hold her hand. He couldn't stand the thought of gripping cold, limp fingers. Not again."Finally reunited with Alisa, Lars faces a new challenge: domesticity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by a friend.

Later, when Lars is staring at the ceiling from his cramped position on the couch, sleep rendered impossible by the melodic humming one room over, it's difficult to tell how exactly he got himself into this situation.

He remembers fighting through squad after squad of Heihachi's goons, scoffing at the all too familiar uniforms of the Tekken Force; how he drew his gun once more just to find Lee on the other end of it, and–

Lars swallows.

It's one thing to know Alisa's on her way to being fixed – and another to see her up and running, fighting by his side like nothing happened. As if he hadn't spent a full year sitting by her bedside, staring at her motionless face to somehow will her back into consciousness, suppressing the need to reach out and hold her hand. He couldn't stand the thought of gripping cold, limp fingers.  _Not again._

After the fight (and the tackle hug that Lars can't quite get out of his head no matter how hard he tries), Lee's smile had been more than apologetic. “That certainly ruined the surprise”, he sighed dramatically, before grinning, smug as a cat. “Gotcha good anyways, didn't she?”

Lars had been too busy staring after Alisa to reply.

He, too, hadn't questioned Alisa's decision to tag along. It's their thing, they're a team, aren't they? But now he – _they_ , he thinks nervously – are back at his flat, stripped bare from Lee's eccentricities except for the basic furniture he kept around, and he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Alisa had taken a quick look around, nodded, “Survey complete!”, and smiled at Lars like he's all she needs to be content.

Out of some sort of knee-jerk reaction, he offered her his bed – the only bed in the entire flat, oh how he regretted his lifestyle choices – and she tilted her head, clearly confused.

“I don't sleep”, Alisa had reminded him helpfully.

“I know”, Lars had mumbled, _idiot idiot idiot_ , but insisted anyways. He blamed the sudden heat of his cheeks on his overly-warm armor, and excused himself to get changed.

And here he is: crashing on his own couch without a blanket (he only has one, and that's out of reach now), losing sleep over _this_ instead of the dozen other things that should be bothering him, that _do_ bother him. The Mishima Zaibatsu is still out for Jin and in extension them, Jin himself – thankfully still asleep, or else Lars'd be going insane by now – is a headache waiting to happen... This war isn't showing any signs of stopping and they're smack dab in the middle of it.

And yet it's Alisa on his mind. Lars groans and covers his eyes with his hand.

And yet, in the familiar darkness of his living room, the comforting rumble of night-time traffic coming from the opened window, Lars allows himself to smile. _She's finally back._

Only belatedly does he notice the humming has stopped.

“Lars?”

He blinks and turns towards her quiet voice, the springs creaking under his shifting weight. The bedroom door is left ajar.

“Hmm?”

She continues, “Good night”, and even if he can't see her he knows she's smiling too.

“... Night.”

Lars sleeps.

*

Lars wakes slowly, dozing for a few minutes more before he sits up and stretches, grunting as his back pops. Rubbing his eyes, he tries to shake off the drowsiness dulling his senses. He blankly stares first at the blanket pooling in his lap, then at the closed blinds, keeping out the sunlight that would've fallen on his face otherwise. _How did...?_

“You're awake!”, comes a cheerful voice from behind the couch, making Lars jump. He's on his feet in an instant, the blanket discarded to the ground in a rush of fabric and–

_Oh._

Lars steps out of the fighting stance he went into, scratching his neck. “Uh, morning”, he says, trying to clear the roughness from his voice. He starts searching for his phone, muttering “What's the time?” under his breath.

As always, Alisa doesn't hesitate to provide data: “Ten forty-five. You slept nine hours and thirty-eight minutes” is her answer, quicker than Lars can unlock his home screen. She giggles at his shocked expression.

He completely overslept.

Surprisingly, when he finally manages to check his phone, there are no missed calls and only two messages from Lee. _I'll give you the day off! How about some nice breakfast with Alisa?_ the first says, ending with a hand putting pink nailpolish on. It's followed by another that was sent thirty minutes later, a pair of eyeballs and nothing else.

Lars scoffs and answers:

_Words, Lee, they exist._

And:

_You're not my boss. But thanks._

That done, he turns back to Alisa and realizes she's been standing on the same spot, waiting for him. He pockets his phone, “Sorry 'bout that”, and gestures towards the door. “Wanna go somewhere? Lee can manage a day alone, or so he says.”

Alisa positively _beams_. “Yes! Can we go to a park? Or wait, you need to eat. I can cook something for you! Then the park. I've never been to one.”

Lars can't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. _I missed this._ Thinking of the sorry state of his empty fridge, he waves away her offer to cook but agrees to the park – but first things first. He looks down at the ratty sweatpants and shirt combo he slept in, “Give me five minutes–”

It's then he remembers something else. Head snapping up, he takes in Alisa's appearance: She's still wearing her armor from the day before, and although she seems comfortable in it, it's too flashy to be worn in public. Lars thinks back, but can't remember her carrying any sort of clothes or other possessions besides these.

_Damn you, Lee._

“Change of plans. Have you ever been shopping before?”

Judging by Alisa's excited gasp, today is going to be full of firsts.

*

Hours later finds them sitting on a park bench, surrounded by a wide variety of bags and boxes. While Lars munches away at a pair of sandwiches he bought at a corner shop nearby, Alisa is taking photos of anything that's fascinating to her with her new phone.

It's only one of many things they bought today; from basics like shirts, pants and shoes to underwear and pyjamas to dresses and skirts, they stocked up on everything Lars could think of, and even if she might not need everything, he feels better this way – at least in the moments he manages to forget his bleeding bank account.

Watching her stalk closer to a squirrel, phone camera at the ready, Lars becomes aware of the other thing he's trying to ignore: Alisa's still wearing his shirt. He wishes he would've given her something other than the faded tee he bought at Kentfest, but it's the smallest he has. On her, it's wide enough to function as a dress – despite her new clothes, _this_ is her chosen outfit of the day.

And she looks good in it. Lars looks away again, hating the way his face warms at the thought. _Stop it._ He's made enough of an idiot out of himself without these inappropriate feelings resurfacing.

Thus he spends the rest of their lunch break scrolling down the news feed on his phone, frowning at the ever-worsening situation around the globe. Stock prices crashed due to yesterday's destruction of the Violet Systems facility, raids on grocery stores and malls in the areas affected by the war... The list goes on and on. It's _his_ family tossing the planet into chaos and yet he's the one dilly-dallying around while he should be on the front lines, fighting for what's right.

Lars leans his head back and sighs. _Fuck._

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alisa stand up and head his way. Lars sits up again, plastering on a smile–

“What's wrong?”

Alisa's not fooled one bit, the expression on her face serious. Lars glances down at the now-black screen of his phone.

“World's going to shit, that's what. Doesn't seem like it from here but it is and...” A pause, heavy with the doubts lingering on the tip of his tongue. Lars clenches his teeth, the muscle in his jaw visibly twitching, then – a heavy exhale.

“I don't know if what we're doing will be enough to save it.”

Alisa looks at him for one, two seconds longer before she drops down on the seat beside him, close enough that her knee brushes his. She hums pensively.

“The creepy CEO said he'll take care of it, right?”

Lips tugging up at the nickname, Lars nods hesitantly.

Alisa does as well, with enough confidence for two. “Then there's nothing to worry about!”

He raises his eyebrow at that. A teasing tone slips into his next words. “How come you trust Lee so much? You barely know him.”

“Well”, she shrugs lightly, “he led me to you, didn't he? Just like he promised.”

This time, when she looks at him, he doesn't – _can't_ – look away. There's something warm curling in his chest, the same something that makes his fingers tingle with the familiar need to reach for her hand, a few short inches away from his own. “I'm glad he did”, Lars whispers instead, his mouth faster than his brain, but can't find it in him to regret it when Alisa's eyes light up.

It takes him a moment longer to understand there are tears gathering there too, gliding down her pale cheeks silently. Lars's breath hitches, barely registering his own movement before he's wiping them away. He can't think of anything else to say than “I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?”, keeping his voice low and comforting.

“I don't know what's happening”, Alisa whispers back, presses into the gentle touch of his fingers, wet lashes brushing them light as a feather with every blink. “I'm just so happy. Is it possible to cry from happiness, too?”

Pure relief makes Lars chuckle, “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

He feels so light he forgets to pull away.

*

“You scared me. I didn't even know you could cry.”

Opening the door to his flat, Lars picks up all the shopping bags and dumps them on the couch. He rolls his shoulders, tense after a long day.

Behind him, Alisa is suspiciously quiet. When he looks at her, she avoids his gaze, mumbling “I apologize” to the ground.

Lars blinks, perplexed. “Huh? What for?”

“I made you worry.” She fidgets with a strand of her hair before she pushes it behind her ear. “You are so nice to me, bought me all these things and–“

Lars is shaking his head before she finishes talking. Stepping closer, he's careful to give her space even so. “C'mon, Alisa, aren't we past this? After everything... A few clothes are nothing.”

She doesn't seem convinced. Lars presses on: “Besides, I can't have you walk around in my old shirts forever, right?”

“I like it”, she admits quietly, tugging at the hem of said shirt. “It smells like you.”

Total silence.

Lars opens and closes his mouth, distantly aware of how stupid he must look but his brain must be short-circuiting because words won't come. “You can keep it”, he manages eventually, struggling to sound unaffected. “Yeah, just... Okay. I'm kinda hungry so I'll just–“, he unnecessarily points at the kitchen with his thumb, “uh, cook or something. There should be enough room in the closet for your stuff if you wanna put it away. Right.”

Alisa smiles and nods, less shy now. “Roger!”

Lars tells himself he's _not_ running away. It's more of a tactical retreat.

*

In his haste, Lars forgot his cooking skills are virtually non-existent.

After sucessfully suffering through burned waffles, he returns to find the living room empty. He figures Alisa's busy, so he decides to use the time to catch up on his workout schedule. With _Kent_ playing at full blast from his phone, Lars trains until he's dripping sweat and his muscles ache, the pleasant burn of a job well done.

There's still no sign of Alisa when he comes out the shower, dressed in only his sweatpants and towelling off his still-wet hair. _Weird._ Like the night before, the bedroom door is only half-closed – Lars knocks anyways.

No answer.  _Definitely weird._

“Everything okay?”, he asks, knocking again. He peeks inside, pushes the door open slowly. “Alisa?”

What he finds makes the blood go cold in his veins, his heart stuttering in his chest.

Alisa lies on the bed, clearly unconscious with one of her new dresses still in her limp hand.

Lars's thoughts go into every direction all at once – _Malfunction? Battery empty? Deactivated?_ – as he rushes to her side. With all the care in the world, he props her against his chest, grimacing at how cold she feels against his naked skin.

“Alisa! Wake up”, he says, voice strained. He shakes her, gently at first, then with more force. “Please wake up, c'mon!"

Her head lolls to the side, resting against his neck. “Please”, he repeats but her eyes remain shut. There's no pulse to check even if he tries for one anyways, out of sheer instinct; Lars unlocks her charger from her back in one practiced move, leaving her side to connect her to the grid.

Nothing happens.

Panic rises, crawling up his chest, threatening to choke him. There are no options left. _This doesn't make sense._ If only he knew how Alisa _works_ –

Realization strikes. _Lee._ Lars scrambles for his phone, his trembling fingers refusing to cooperate properly as he mistypes the number once, twice, then–

“Well _hello_ –“

“Alisa glitched”, Lars interrupts him breathlessly. He jams the phone against his shoulder to free his hands, stomach twisting at Alisa's continued unresponsiveness. “Left her out of my sight for an hour tops. Charger's not working, she's not reacting Lee, what do I–“

“Whoa whoa whoa, _calm down_ ”, Lee cuts through his rambling. His usual teasing tone is gone.

Lars inhales deeply, soldier instincts telling him to _listen_. He nods even if the other can't see it.

“You tried charging her?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Not working, _like I said_.”

“Huh.”

Lars waits. “Lee”, he growls when no further questions arise.

“Give me a second”, Lee snaps back. The harsh clacking of fingers on keyboard filter through. Finally:

“Aha!”

Lars's hands on Alisa's shoulders tighten automatically. “What?”

But instead of answering, Lee laughs. “Oh my! I completely forgot about that.”

“ _Lee!_ ”

“She's sleeping, Lars. Well, more accurately: in hibernation. Like a computer, not... a bear or something.”

Lars tuned him out after the first two words. “What?!” If it wasn't Alisa he's holding, he would've crushed his hands to fists. “She never needed sleep before– Wait, what do you mean you 'forgot'?!”

“Well”, Lee starts, and maybe it's wishful thinking but he sounds at least a little intimidated by the anger in Lars's voice, “I was reworking her neural network to get rid of the control mechanism Jin put into place and stumbled across a bundle of alternate settings. Seems like Dr. Bosconovitch implemented a secondary charging option. His work truly is remarkable...”

“Long story short, I got curious so I activated it.”

During the time it takes for Lee to conclude his small speech, Lars swings between being furious and completely relieved. In the end he simply sighs. “So she's okay. Any clue when she'll wake up?”

“Hmm, her father made it to imitate a human sleep cycle, I think?”

“That's what, four, five hours?”

The disappointment in Lee's voice is palpable. “I meant a healthy one. Anyways, I'm a busy man so I hope you don't expect me to hold your hand until she wakes up.”

Lars bristles. “I wouldn't have called you at all if you would've just _told me_ –“

“Bye, brother!”

“Lee–!”

But the call has already ended.

Lars slumps in defeat, the rush of adrenaline leaving him drained. His gaze wanders down to Alisa. In light of this new information, Alisa's expression looks quite peaceful, calming him even further.

_She's okay._

Slowly, Lars moves her into a more comfortable position, resting her head on his pillow. On second thought, he tucks her in too, placing her arms on the covers and brushing her hair out of her face gently.

It's then that he realizes– _What am I doing?_ Lars takes his hand away as if burned, straightening up stiffly. Hovering over her like that when she's merely sleeping – it's all kinds of wrong. Lars gets off the bed quickly and, after an uncomfortable moment of indecision, picks up the discarded dress and puts it away.

Lars stares at his and Alisa's clothes sorted neatly beside each other in his closet, then back at his currently occupied bed.

He comes to a decision.

Emptying out his side of the closet, Lars leaves the room, the door falling shut behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Tekken fandom! I hope you don't mind me dipping my toes into this ship. Don't despair, this fic has two parts - I just couldn't wait to share the first half c:
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tags have been updated.

Keeping his distance is easier said than done.

After a few hours of fitful sleep, Lars finds himself pacing. He's up since sunrise; the alarm on his phone rang a few minutes ago, signaling Alisa should wake up any moment now and yet something keeps him from waiting at her bedside like he used to.

It's the soft call of “Lars...” from inside his room that breaks his resolve. Lars's heartbeat is loud in his ears, pulse jumping to his throat as he stands in front of the same door he's been staring at all morning.

He takes a deep breath and goes in.

Alisa is still in the same position he left her in, her eyes dim as they fall on Lars. Her pupils refocus and light up a clear green – her systems are coming back online.

“Lars?”, she repeats, with that same weak voice that makes his chest feel tight. “Where...?”

He pulls up his desk chair and sits down, a few feet away from her. He smiles, putting effort into making it a genuine one. “My place. How are you feeling?”

Alisa's eyebrows draw together, light creases marring the flawless skin of her forehead. “Slow.” She tries to sit up, confusion more and more apparent on her face as she barely makes it to the headrest.

It's hard to watch. Lars's nails dig into his thighs, the sting of pain reminding him to stay put. “Take it easy. You've been gone for a while.”

He regrets his choice of words almost instantly. Alisa's eyes widen until she's fixing him with an owl-like stare. “Gone?“

Her gaze drifts to his clenched hands, then at her own, lying palm-up in her lap. She bites her lip.

“I hurt you again, didn't I?”

Lars flinches. “What?” The memory of bright red eyes flashes in his mind, _Eradicating Lars Alexandersson–_

He shakes his head to get rid of it. “No, Alisa, listen–“

“Tense body language, heart rate and adrenaline levels high.” Alisa's voice is trembling. “Are you afraid of me, Lars?”

He can't stand it; closing the distance between them, he takes her hand in his. “No.” Their eyes meet, blue on green. Lars's grip tightens. “No. I trust you.”

“But–“

“What happened in the past, that wasn't– It was something else. Not _you_. You'd never hurt me, Alisa. Not if you can help it.”

“But–!”

“I didn't notice. You needed rest and I didn't–” Lars bows his head, guilt leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Her fingers seem small and delicate against Lars's own. He interlaces them slowly. “I thought I lost you. That's what I'm afraid of.”

Alisa falls silent. Lars can feel her eyes on him, trying to understand. Quietly, she asks:

“Lars... What's happening to me?”

“I don't know”, he answers, raw with honesty. “Lee said this is what your father originally intended. Tears, a sleep cycle–”

“Humanity?”

“... Maybe, yeah.” He squeezes her hand. Alisa squeezes back, after a moment of hesitation. “Lee needs more time to figure it out. We _will_ figure it out, though. I promise.”

For a long time, she says nothing. Lars makes to give her space yet it is Alisa who holds on.

“I want to do it myself.”

Some of Lars's surprise must've slipped past his guard because she nods, mouth set in a determined line. “Free will is human too, isn't it? I will not let my fate be decided by others again. Not by Lee.” Her eyes soften, more wistful than he has ever seen her. “Not even you.”

Lars's stomach drops. “I understand.” He withdraws and this time, Alisa lets him go.

"...I'd like to ask for one more thing.”

And even though he got the message, there's a spark of hope inside him that refuses to die. Lars forces himself to look her in the face. “Yes?”

“I cannot predict what else my father left behind to be discovered but...” Alisa folds her hands in her lap and bows respectfully, a formal request.

“Please allow me to stay by your side until then.”

 _Until then._ Lars's lips pull into a relieved smile despite it all. He tilts his head: request accepted _._ “For as long as you want to.”

Alisa smiles, too, bright with gratitude. “It's time to pay Lee another visit.”

*

Lee is already waiting for them when they pull up in front of his mansion, having cleared security easily. Alisa's out and flying towards him before Lars even parked the car. He chuckles and shakes his head fondly. She really does like him.

Lee's boisterous laughter can be heard even from afar. “Good to see you so full of energy”, he's telling Alisa as Lars catches up. He nods at Lee, _Thank you_ , and Lee nods back. His eyebrow is cocked. _You owe me one._

Smiling again, Lee clasps his hands. “Alright then, let me show you around! Mi casa es su casa, and all that.”

Lars motions for Alisa to go ahead to trail behind them, covering their backs by default. Seeing the media presence at Lee's gates reminded him he – they – have a public image to maintain, as well.

As if reading his mind, Lee sniffs disdainfully. “Lars, this reporter's been snooping around. Seems like he's hell-bent on researching the family business. Mind talking to him?”

Lars almost groans. The amount of skeletons in the Mishimas' closet is borderline infinite; making sense of it is a full-time job in itself. He stays professional, though. Lee is going to cash in that favor sooner rather than later, it seems.

“Which version does he want? The rational one, or the cursed bloodline one?”

Lee smirks sharply. “The truth. All of it. It's time to air out our dear father's dirty secrets, don't you think?”

Lars hums, pensive. “Might as well use the weapons we have, I suppose. I'll let you know when to schedule the meeting.”

They look at each other. There's a satisfied glint in Lee's eyes that's more than suspicious.

“... You already set it up, didn't you?”

Lee winks, so exaggerated it's visible through his aviators. “He's waiting for you inside as we speak.”

This time, Lars does groan. “Have you ever heard of the term 'effective communication'? Seriously, look it up.”

“You know, I would if I weren't busy managing _your_ army alongside my own company, the press and multiple research facilities while _you're_ out having fun. Food for thought.”

Lars shuts his mouth with a click of teeth. “ _Fine._ ”

“Be careful, Lars”, Alisa pipes up. “We don't know the reporter's intentions.”

Despite their differences, the look of surprise on both their faces is the same. Alisa usually stays out of their bickering.

“I will”, Lars amends with a short nod. He taps his phone in his pocket. “Will you let me know when you want to go home?”

“I will”, Alisa repeats cheerfully. “Good luck!”

“You too.”

Lars turns to go, not without shooting Lee another glare. Again, Lee cocks his eyebrow, observing the exchange between Lars and Alisa with blatant glee. Luckily he stays silent.

 _Asshole,_ Lars huffs to himself all the way to the mansion.

*

The drive home is a quiet one.

Lars doesn't notice at first, so far in his head that he's driving on autopilot. The reporter's questions dug deep; telling the truth after years of tight-lipped lies was unexpectedly hard, counter-intuitive almost – like taking off piece after piece of his armor in a room full of enemies, most of all once they got to the subject of his father.

Distantly, Lars wonders what Tougou would say about all this. His eyes narrow, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. _Fucking Kazuya._

Despite his troubled thoughts, he's aware of Alisa beside him, near motionless as she stares out the window. Whatever she and Lee found out in that lab, Lars doesn't know and he won't ask.

Alisa will talk when she's ready.

So they get home. They trade their armor for more comfortable clothes; Lars glances at Alisa, at the shirt she's wearing that was formerly his, and smiles quietly to himself.

“I was thinking”, he says a while later, closing the fridge after an unsatisfactory overview of the available food, “how about ordering at Miller's? Their burgers are pretty great.”

Alisa looks up from the TV screen – she's been zapping Netflix for some time now – to him, tilting her head questioningly. “Whatever you chose, I will follow.”

 _That's one way to put it._ Lars's face shows none of the concern stirring inside him. He shrugs and pulls up the app on his phone, thumbing in his own order – a few burgers, some fries and one of those brownies he can't get enough of –, then pauses.

“Hmm, I can't decide. Pancakes or french toast? Milkshake or donuts? There's too much to choose from.”

“The best choice based on nutritinal values and flavor carriers are: Pancakes, milkshake.”

“Roger that.”

It doesn't take long for the food to arrive. Lars gets the door, thanking the receptionist for bringing it up – even after a year living here, he still hasn't gotten quite used to the luxury Lee granted him so easily – and plunks down beside Alisa.

“What are we watching?”, he asks around a mouthful of fries, pushing both the stack of pancakes and the milkshake in Alisa's direction.

Alisa accepts the food with a small nod. “ _Pacific Rim_. Should we–“

“Nah, don't worry. That movie's awesome.”

They eat in silence after that, the sounds coming from the TV covering for the lapse in conversation even if Lars can't quite concentrate on the movie; he's seen it a few times already. He catches himself watching Alisa out of the corner of his eye. She visibly relaxes after the first sip of her milkshake, a private smile touching her lips.

 _Her sweet tooth hasn't changed, at least._ Lars allows himself to relax too, one arm slung over the backrest.

By the end of the movie, Lars is fighting to keep his eyes open, the missed sleep coming back to haunt him. Judging by the weight steadily leaning more and more into his side, Alisa isn't faring any better. The memory of the night before drops heavy as lead in Lars's gut – there's no way he'll let her suffer through another hard reset like that.

“Alisa”, he whispers, chuckling when her only response is an indistinct mumble against his shoulder. “We should sleep. Got a long day ahead tomorrow.”

Alisa sits up clumsily. A hearty yawn, followed by “'kay” as she looks at him through drooping eyes.

It's the cutest thing Lars has ever seen.

He's too tired to fight his own train of thought, though, instead focusing his remaining energy on getting Alisa to rest. “Is it okay if I carry you?”, he asks bluntly, waiting for her sleepy nod before he hooks his arms under her back and knees. “Hold on”, he murmurs, wheezing as he lifts her considerable weight. Alisa's fingers tangle in his shirt. “Alright, let's get you to bed.”

He tries not to think too much about the way Alisa is nuzzling his neck.

The short distance is crossed in a few steps. Even in the darkness he can see the bed is still neatly made from the morning; Lars lowers Alisa slowly onto the covers, waiting for her to let go. “Alisa?”, he prompts when it doesn't happen.

Her hands grip his shirt tighter. “Please...” He hears her exhale shakily. “Don't go.”

Lars shushes her softly. “You're safe. I'm just one room over if anything happens.”

And still, Alisa doesn't budge. With horror Lars notes she's close to tears. “Please. I don't want to be alone.”

All of the sudden, Lars understands. _She's scared._ Scared of falling asleep, of giving up consciousness even if just for a few hours. _Are you afraid of me, Lars?_

Before he can respond, she lets go. “My apologies, I–“

“Scoot over.”

Lars huffs at Alisa's surprised silence. “C'mon, it's late. We can figure out the details tomorrow.”

After they've settled in – Alisa on one side, Lars on the other, the bed only allowing a few inches of distance between them – Lars has difficulties winding down, unused to sharing a bed with anyone let alone someone as important to him as Alisa.

Eventually though, his lids grow heavy again, the tempting waves of sleep lapping against his mind. Lars is almost gone when he feels a hand touching his, slender fingers sliding inbetween his own. “Good night”, Alisa whispers, her voice barely there at all.

Lars hums, “See you t'morrow”, he answers, fast asleep before he finished the sentence.

*

Lars is comfortable.

A perfect degree of cozy warmth surrounds him, the like only his favorite blanket can achieve. When he shifts, digging his face deeper into his pillow, it gives at the optimal point between too hard and too soft; when he stretches, his feet meet no resistance.

Lars slumps with a happy sigh. He dozes off.

The next time his thoughts graze consciousness, it's because of a barely-there tug to his hair. The fact that it's out of place doesn't make it through the haze of his mind – the almost rhythmic touch to his scalp feels _good_ , so he doesn't question it.

He _does_ question the hushed giggle that sounds close, too close.

Another tug, another giggle, and Lars's eyes fly open.

Alisa's face is right there, hair mussed, green eyes squinting with laughter. After what feels like a miniature heart attack – because _yeah, that happened_ – Lars produces a confused noise that started as a question somewhere in his brain.

Apparently Alisa can even translate sleep-addled mumbling because she says, “Look!”, and pulls a strand of Lars's hair. She waits for Lars's half-lidded eyes to follow the movement, then lets go. “It just bounces back. How does it stand without any product? That's so fascinating.”

Lars closes his eyes again. “...Jus' grows that way. How late is–“

“So soft too”, Alisa goes on, getting in one last ruffle. With some delay she reports: “It's still early. I figured you wouldn't want to oversleep again.”

“Thanks”, Lars grunts, blinking his eyes with more purpose now. He regards Alisa more closely. “How'd you sleep?”

“Battery is at peak capacity. No system resets, either. I think I'm getting the hang of this!”

Her expression is so proud that Lars laughs, half-muffled by his pillow, “'m glad.” He heaves himself into a sitting position a moment later, rubbing his eyes. His feet hit the wooden floor with a dull thud.

“Lars.”

He's instantly awake. There's only a handful of times Lars has heard that serious tone from her. “Yes?”

He doesn't turn around. There's a reason Alisa chose to talk to his back.

“My father, he..." She hesitates, rephrases. "What Lee found was a gift meant for me. Not an alternate code but a choice.”

The sheets bunch under Lars's hands. He remembers tears of happiness; the touch of synthetic skin on his, cold to the touch; falling asleep with a new yet familiar presence beside him.

“Humanity?”, he asks, voice rough.

“As close as one such as I can get to it, yes”, Alisa confirms with a sort of finality that makes Lars's heart pound painfully in his chest because _she's already made her choice._ “There are more features to be unlocked and I cannot yet tell what will become of my... functionality.”

Lars swallows.

“What will you do?”

Behind him, Alisa takes a deep breath. “I'll take my chances even so. I would understand if– that means I am no longer of use to you and–”

“Alisa.“

Lars stops himself, searching for the right words but they won't come. He sighs, frustrated with himself. “'As long as you want to', that's what I said, remember? Nothing has changed on my side so–”

And suddenly there's no air left in his lungs as he's tackle-hugged _again_ , his ribs protesting under the pressure of the strong arms wrapping around his chest. His breathless “ _oof_ ” is drowned out by Alisa's “Yes!”, spoken by Lars's ear. She relaxes her grip after a few seconds, giggling at Lars's deep inhale – she doesn't go far though; Lars holds on to her crossed arms in front of him and laughs, too.

“You'll have to start giving warnings for those”, he teases without heat, leaning back into the embrace.

Alisa props her head on his shoulder. “Next time, I promise.”

Lars hums. _Next time, huh?_

*

“Alisa, you coming?”

The last clasp on the left shoulder closes. Lars checks the fit in the mirror, eyeing his hair critically but deeming it a lost cause as always.

“Alisa?”

Hurried steps come from their room. “Here!”, Alisa pants, jogging to his side. She waves with her headpiece. “Sorry, I couldn't find it. Must've fallen into your side of the closet for some reason.”

Lars wordlessly offers his help, fixing the pins in her hair carefully. “Good?”

Alisa checks her reflection and nods. “Are we late?”

“Eh”, Lars shrugs. “Lee can wait and Jin's not going anywhere, don't worry. Got everything?”

“Mhm!”

“Let's go, then.” Lars walks towards the door, making sure not to drag anything along with his cape. He takes his phone and keys, switches off the lights.

“Lars, wait!”

He turns, ready to ask what's missing–

Alisa's lips are on his. Lars freezes, merely catching himself against the frame of the door as he's kissed softly, more a question than anything else. Then what's happening _clicks_ – and he returns it, catching a glimpse of Alisa's surprised face before he closes his eyes and sighs into the kiss.

Chaste, almost clumsy with caution, their first kiss is not at all what Lars expected and yet everything he wants because it's _Alisa_. Any capability of thought – about Lee, Jin, the war, the world – flies out his head. He tilts his head for a better angle, smiling when Alisa copies him instinctively; when they part, Lars can't help but steal another peck, already addicted to the feeling of kissing the woman he loves.

As if suddenly realizing what she did, Alisa gasps, “Oh!”, and blushes a dark pink. She hides her face and peeks through her fingers. “I just... _Wow_.”

Lars knows by the warmth on his face and his hammering pulse that he's not faring any better. “That's one way to put it”, he says hoarsely, chuckling at Alisa's flustered “Sorry!”. Leaning closer, he brushes his nose against hers, the only thing not covered by her hands.

“Can I get another one?”

Lars quickly learns he doesn't have to ask twice when it comes to kisses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they continued kicking ass and being cute together forever c:
> 
> This fic was prompted by the fact that Alisa seems more "human" in T7 compared to the previous parts; she can cry and starts sweating during the fights, plus it looks like she's merely sleeping peacefully when she's woken up by Lee so I thought - "What if?"
> 
> Again, thanks for reading!
> 
> [tumblr](http://kawaiibooker.tumblr.com/) // [twitter](https://twitter.com/kawaiibooker)


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